


Talking Is a Free Action

by Serriya (Keolah)



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen, Humor, No Fourth Wall, Tabletop Game Mechanics, Violence, dice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An elf wizard embarks on a rather cliche adventure, all the while arguing with the DM, goofing off, and refusing to blindly go along with the plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doomed Village

Keolah woke to the sounds of horses and fighting outside. She hurriedly grabbed her pack in which she kept her spellbook, familiar, spell components, and supplies, and ran outside. Torches lit up the dark of the night, and soldiers bearing the pink-and-black colors of Flyland were ransacking her poor, rustic village.

"That's a terrible choice of colors," Keolah muttered. "Who came up with that, anyway?"

She overheard one soldier say to another, "Keep an eye out for the elf girl. They said she should be around sixteen or seventeen."

"Is that elf years or human years?" the other asked.

"I don't know. Whatever. There was a prophecy that said she was the Chosen One—"

"Oh, come on!" Keolah interjected, addressing the sky rather than the soldiers. "Could you have possibly come up with something more cliche than this? Prophecies, Chosen Ones — Chosen by whom and for what, for that matter? My village being destroyed within five minutes of the campaign starting? Really?"

Screams of villagers, terrified and in pain, echoed through the darkness. Flylish soldiers systematically searched the buildings for her. As it turned out, there weren't exactly a lot of elven girls in this predominantly human village.

From nowhere, an ethereal voice like that of a young boy said, "Aren't you at all curious about it?"

"Well, it looks like I don't have to be, seeing as you're railroading me out of this village before I've even had a chance to wake up," Keolah said.

"Oh, don't complain," the godly voice replied. "No sense in wasting time in getting to to the action."

"Well, yeah, I'm not complaining about _that_ , but couldn't you have possibly come up with a better opening?" Keolah wondered.

"You know they're still attacking the village around you, don't you?"

"Talking is a free action!"

Cliche or not, might as well run with it. She wished that she'd had a chance to bring a party together first before being immediately thrown into combat, but she had her spells memorized already at least.

She stepped out in front of a group of soldiers and yelled, " _Burning Hands!_ " Flames blazed out from her hands and engulfed the three of them, who promptly caught fire, along with their hideous and highly flammable pink-and-black uniforms. They took the full brunt of the attack, clearly not expecting her to be casting spells at them.

As the men stopped to try to put out their burning clothes, Keolah turned to run, acutely aware of the fact that just one of them was likely to kill her, never mind three. There was a sword somewhere in her house. She probably should have grabbed it before coming outside. She could use that, although it wasn't like she could use it particularly _well._ While the soldiers were distracted, she darted back into the building to look for it.

The sword lay inside a chest in her parents' room. Neither of them was present at the moment. Maybe they were outside fighting, or maybe they had fled already. Either way, she had more immediate things to worry about at the moment. Soldiers tromped loudly into the house.

Keolah stepped out into the hallway to face them and shouted, " _Burning Hands!"_ The flames guttered, flicking over the soldiers, not nearly as effective this time. Still, it was enough to bring one of them down.

Due to not being able to maneuver well in the hallway, only one of them was within reach to stab at her with his short sword. It struck a glancing blow against her shoulder, tearing through cloth and biting into flesh.

She gritted her teeth. Cornered and out of effective spells, maybe coming back into the house wasn't such a great idea after all. Still, she at least had a longsword now. Clumsily she slashed at the soldier closest to her. The blade clanged against the man's armor, and she was afraid she hadn't even hurt him at all, until she noticed the edges of the sword glistening with acid. It was enough. The second soldier fell.

The third one grabbed her by the throat and shoved her against the wall.

"No fair!" Keolah cried. "I didn't even read the grappling rules!"

"How are you complaining when I've got my hand around your throat?" the man wondered.

"Sorry," Keolah said. "Grk! Hrk!"

With the sensation of slithering up through her robes, her little familiar emerged and sank its tiny venomous fangs into the soldier's exposed, bare hand. He cried out and immediately released her, but it was too late and he hadn't been able to dodge the attack, falling to the ground along with his compatriots.

"Thanks, Thissa," she whispered. Through her empathic bond, she could feel satisfaction and protectiveness from the snake.

Discretion was definitely the better part of vapor here. That didn't stop her from taking a moment to rifle through their pockets and pack up anything of any value. Keolah quickly slipped out the back, hoping to avoid attention from anymore Flylanders long enough to get away from here. Flames flickered against the night as the flimsy, wooden buildings caught fire and blazed.

"Maybe I should have memorized something other than Burning Hands…"

* * *

" _Prestidigitation_ ," Keolah cast, cleaning up the blood on her robes. She didn't have Mending memorized, so she'd have to wait until tomorrow to fix the tear. Once she was away from the glow of the burning village, it was quite dark in the forest, but the light of Lezaria's smaller green moon filtered down through the leaves. It was a good thing that elves could see well in low light, because she wouldn't have wanted to risk casting a Dancing Lights with those soldiers out there looking for her.

Keolah became simultaneously glad that she had brought supplies, and regretting that she had brought so many supplies. Naturally, she had kept in a pack in her room everything that she could conceivably need to take on an adventure. However that, in addition to the loot she had looted from the soldiers, she found herself weighed down more than her weak muscles wanted to carry and still move as fast as she'd hoped.

After traveling all day, she arrived at the next village, a little lumber town called Eddinburrow, by evening. People there had heard about the attack on Ordenburg and were evacuating. Well, it wasn't any wonder that someone had gotten word here before she'd managed to trudge through the forest. Regardless, she decided to hole up here to rest, heal up, and prepare her spells. In a room that had a back exit.

" _Mending_ ," she muttered, just as sounds of raised voices echoed from outside. Fortunately, the Flylanders had waited for her to finish breakfast, and more importantly to memorize a fresh batch of spells, before swooping down upon her again.

Someone banged heavily upon the door. "Open up in the name of Flyland!"

Now, Keolah figured the sensible thing to have done would be to cast Hold Portal on the door and then use Expeditious Retreat to run away. Those weren't spells she'd yet bothered to learn, though. Really not her style.

"One moment, one moment!" she called out to them. "I must get dressed! You would not wish to see my old, wrinkled body nude!"

"Uh, yeah, you do that."

While they were giving her one moment to get dressed that she didn't actually need, she slipped out the back door.

She didn't get far, however. Another group of Flylanders accosted her in the street by the lumber mill while she was slowly making her way out of the village. "Halt! We have been sent to find an elven girl matching your description. Gray eyes—"

"Silver," she corrected.

"—brown hair—"

"Auburn."

"Whatever," the soldier shrugged. "I would advise you to come quietly for questioning."

"I'm not the elf you're looking for," she said, waving a hand.

The man said to the others, "She's not the elf we're looking for."

Another man, dressed in a fancier uniform that she took to mean he was a captain or something, came up to them and said, "You fools, she _is_ the elf we're looking for. Seize her!"

Five on one? Well, those were wonderful odds. She reached into her component pouch. " _Grease!_ " she cast, throwing out a pork rind and coating the area beneath their feet with a slippery substance. Five soldiers slipped and fell to the ground. These idiots must have terrible reflex saves. As they climbed to their feet again, she followed up with " _Burning Hands!_ " The five of them caught fire. The ground did not. "Well damnit," she muttered. That hadn't worked as well as she'd hoped. Still, they were, for the moment, on the ground and on fire. "Hey, can we talk about this?"

"We're on the ground and on fire," the captain said. "And you want to chat now?"

"Talking is a free action!" Keolah insisted.

"Look, why don't you just run away, or cast another spell, or stab us, or something?"

"I'm trying to figure out the best strategy to handle this," Keolah said.

The captain sighed. "Fine, I'll just lay here and burn while you're doing that. Let me know when you're quite done with that so I can get up and attack you, thanks."

She looked around for anything she could use to turn the tide to her advantage somehow. In this logging town. " _Mage Hand!_ " she cast. The spell was far too weak to hope to move any of the _logs_ , of course, but it was enough to loosen their bindings enough to cause them to rumble down toward them. Toward her. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all.

As the pile of logs rolled down from the mill into the street, Keolah half-ducked and half-fell away from their path. One of them still managed to clip her, but the soldiers, having not yet recovered from her previous attacks, had only just gotten up and had been trying to put the fire out.

The captain stood up and stepped away from the broken and charred bodies of his comrades. "You know, you are very annoying."

"Gods, how many hit points do you _have_?" Keolah wondered as she stood and readied her sword.

"Enough to bring you in," said the captain, taking a swing at her, but she dodged out of the way by an inch.

Well, this was it. All she had left was Disrupt Undead, a longsword of acid +1, and her snake familiar, and the captain did not appear to be a zombie or anything. At least from the sounds of things, they were trying to capture her rather than kill her. Small consolation. She wasn't about to go down easily, though. Clumsily, she swung her longsword, and the captain stumbled on one of the logs trying to dodge. The acidic blade bit through the armor and into flesh. The captain didn't get up again.

She could hardly believe that she'd actually won. As she caught her breath and went to loot the corpses, after making sure they were actually dead, she realized that she'd gained enough experience from the battle to reach level 2.

"I damned well better have leveled up from that," Keolah grumbled. "That encounter was way above my challenge rating. You'd think I was supposed to surrender there or something."

* * *

As she traveled east, the forest opened up into gently rolling hills nearing Wishingsdale, a sheep-farming village near the Thorndelle Mountains. There hadn't been any sign of trouble since she'd left Eddinburrow, but she was eager to have a safe place to rest and refresh her spells, especially since she now had more spell slots and new spells.

"Flylish soldiers burned down your village?" the locals were asking.

"Yep, yep, that's totally what happened," Keolah bluffed.

"Oh, how terrible! You must be carrying all your worldly possessions on your back there!"

"Yeah," Keolah said. "Where can I sell some stuff?"

They pointed her toward a general store, where she went and started pulling out short swords.

"Where did you get all of these?" the shopkeeper wondered.

"I found them," Keolah replied. "The Flylish soldiers just kind of dropped them."

"Right, you know, I'm just not going to ask. Here's your gold. Don't steal anything from me."

"Thanks." Keolah pocketed it and headed off to the nearest tavern. Well, the only tavern in the village. The sign hanging outside was weathered and nearly illegible, leaving only the image of what might have been an animal's head.

Not only did she want to get something to eat and replenish her rations, as well as a safe place to rest and prepare her spells, but she also hoped to find some party members here. As much of a worthwhile experience as it was to fight enemies by herself, she wasn't going to rely on conveniently placed lumber mills to survive future encounters. A fighter would be good. A cleric would be excellent. And a rogue would no doubt prove handy, too.

As she scanned the room in hopes of spotting strangely dressed people, perhaps a burly human fighter, or a dwarf, or she'd even settle for a half-orc barbarian, she didn't notice another elf girl claim the chair across from her.

"Hi!" said the wood elf, with green eyes and black hair. Although barely an inch taller than her, and even younger, she was considerably more broad. A forest-green cloak draped around her shoulders, with a greatsword strapped to her back that was probably bigger than she was. "Haven't seen you around here before. My name is Lariole Chelseer, but everyone calls me Hawthorne. I'm a fighter."

"I'm Keolah Kedaire. I'm a wizard."

"If you're a wizard, why do you have a sword?" Hawthorne wondered.

"Elves are proficient in longswords!"

Hawthorne peered at the blade. "How good is it? It's not magical, is it?"

"It's totally magical," Keolah said, holding it aloft to where it could glisten in the lamplight. The tavern's patrons glanced briefly over toward them, then went back to ignoring them again. "It does a small amount of additional acid damage!" Looking up at the gleaming blade, she decided to put it down quickly, as if it might drop acid in her eyes accidentally.

"Oh, cool. Can I have it?" Hawthorne grinned gleefully.

"Why would I give you my sword?" Keolah wondered. "I just met you!"

"But I'm in your party now!"

"Well, that's wonderful, and it's great to have you along, but you're still not getting my sword," Keolah said.

"I could probably use it better than you," Hawthorne said.

"Don't you already have a sword?" Keolah gestured to the enormous blade whose hilt rested on Hawthorne's shoulder. "How do you even draw that thing, anyway? And isn't it difficult to swing around in close quarters?"

"Well, kind of," Hawthorne said. "So a smaller sword would be more useful, right?"

"You'll just have to buy one yourself, then. This is Valisdar, the fabled blade of the Kedaire family, and I would be remiss to allow an outsider to touch it," Keolah bluffed, making up a name for the sword on the spot.

"Why does your sword have a name?"

"Because it's special and I'm very attached to it," Keolah said. "It's the only thing I have left to remind me of my parents, who met their cruel fate in the destruction of Ordenburg, when Flylish soldiers burned the place to the ground."

"Shouldn't you be more upset about that?" Hawthorne wondered.

"Oh, absolutely inconsolable," Keolah said, peering about. "Can we just say that I am putting on a bold face for the world but weeping absolutely inconsolably about it every day when nobody is looking?"

"Right, sure, whatever you say."

"Well, anyway, they might have escaped," Keolah said. "I didn't see them."

"Why do you think they would attack a backwater like this?" Hawthorne wondered.

"Oh, they were trying to find me an arrest me because they believe me to be the subject of some prophecy," Keolah said offhandedly.

"A prophecy?" Hawthorne said brightly, perking up. "Wow, cool! Are you ready for an _adventure_?"

"I think I've already been having an adventure just on the way here," Keolah said dryly. "But I'm certainly ready to continue said adventure with some backup."

"I've done a bit of adventuring myself," Hawthorne said.

"Oh, really?" Keolah asked. "What level are you?"

"Uh, level 1."

"So what sort of _adventuring_ did you actually do?"

"I kind of wandered all over the place, goofed off, and got into trouble."

Keolah sighed. "Were you ever actually in a real fight?"

"Well, no," Hawthorne admitted. "But last year I wound up getting captured by Flylanders and held prisoner in Castle Selnus itself. Fortunately, I managed to escape myself, or we'd be meeting during a prison break, most likely."

"Very fortunate, that," Keolah said dryly, then a thought occurred to her. "You didn't happen to see my sister while you were there, did you?"

"What, did she look like you?"

"Yes," Keolah said patiently. "She looked just like me, except a bit older. And less lithe."

"Did you just call your sister fat?" Hawthorne tilted her head.

"No," Keolah said flatly.

"Anyway, no, I didn't see her, that I recall."

"Damn."

"Not that I saw every part of the dungeons, after all. We could go find her! I always wanted to follow in the footsteps of my famed ancestor, Telkarnith Chelseer, who defeated the vampire Vadrak and imprisoned him in the catacombs below Westraldine—"

"Don't care about your backstory," Keolah muttered.

"Hey, it's your backstory, too," Hawthorne said. "You're my fifth cousin, twice removed, after all."

"Did you spend the last several decades memorizing your family tree?" Keolah wondered, a little incredulously.

"Well, yeah. That, and raising horses and goofing off. But I shall become the greatest warrior who ever lived!"

"Alright, great warrior, if you're going to be in my party, do you happen to have a place I can rest so I don't have to pay for a room at the inn?"

Hawthorne deflated a bit. "Oh, right, yeah, it's getting a bit late, isn't it. I'll show you."

The two elves left the tavern into the moonlit evening, and Hawthorne showed the way to a large manor a short ways away from the village. The style was a seamless melding of human and elven design, with grace and beauty combined with strength and efficiency. A number of horses grazed in a pasture, one chestnut stallion raising his head to assess them as they went by.

"I didn't realize you lived in a mansion," Keolah said.

"Nah, it's more of a ranch, really," Hawthorne said. "Anyway, welcome to the Chelseer Estate. Pick a room and make yourself comfortable. In the morning, we're going to go on an adventure! And we'll get lots of experience, and find treasure, and go places and do things! It will be _so much fun_!"

A sinking feeling of dread in Keolah's stomach made her for a moment consider just going back to the tavern and looking for a half-orc barbarian instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character sheets:  
> [Keolah, level 1](http://www.serriya.net/dnd/keolah1.html)  
> [Hawthorne, level 1](http://www.serriya.net/dnd/hawthorne1.html)


	2. Dirty Rats

"So, I suggest that we start off by raiding the ruins in the mountains near us for loot and experience," Hawthorne said.

"That seems sensible," Keolah said. "Are there undead there?"

"I don't know," Hawthorne admitted. "I've never actually been inside. I just use the tunnel near there as a shortcut through the mountains, but the place seemed really, really creepy, so I never really wanted to go near."

"That seems _very_ sensible," Keolah said, looking at Hawthorne suspiciously. "I'm going to attribute this to some sort of fear effect rather than any actual wisdom."

"Hey!" Hawthorne protested, then paused and said, "Yeah, probably. I was always curious about what was in there, though."

"Gotta be something good. Alright, I'm going to prepare my spells, and have breakfast, then we can be off."

"How long will that take?" Hawthorne asked.

"An hour," Keolah said.

Hawthorne groaned. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime, then?"

Keolah rolled her eyes. "Are you sure you're really an elf, and not just a human under a disguise?"

"Of course I am! I'm descended from the royal line of the wood elven kingdom of Kedresida!"

"Don't care about your backstory," Keolah muttered. "Anyway, how strong are you?"

"I'm really strong! I'd bet I could give you a piggyback ride and it would still be a light load."

"Alright, you get to carry the supplies, then," Keolah said, pulling out a bedroll, pot, and rope from her pack and tossing them over to her.

Hawthorne removed the pot from her head and untangled herself from the rope. "I guess that's what I get for bragging."

Keolah wrote up a list and handed it to her, along with a pouch of coins. "Here. While I'm preparing my spells, go to town and buy these, okay?"

"Sure thing." She glanced at the list. "Not even going to ask why you think we need a ten-foot pole."

"We don't have a rogue, for one thing. Plus, do you have any idea how useful those things are?"

"No, I really don't."

* * *

"Alright, the secret tunnel should be right over here." Hawthorne picked her way through the overgrown foothills up toward a sheer cliff. The tunnel in question was surprisingly wide and not particularly well hidden, with only a few paltry shrubs in the way. Someone could comfortably ride a horse down the tunnel without even having to duck.

"This is a secret?" Keolah wondered as they climbed up through it. "How does everyone not know about this?"

"I don't really know," Hawthorne said with a shrug. "But my family has known about it ever since we left the elven lands and settled here, so far as I know. Telkarnith Chelseer—"

Keolah held up a hand. "Don't want to hear about Telkarnith Chelseer."

After maybe an hour of trudging up through the tunnel, they emerged out onto an open plateau. Scraggly bushes peppered the mountainside underneath overcast skies, a chill wind cutting down from the peaks. A trail led east heading through the mountains and down toward green country on the far side. A short ways to the north, a crumbling wall marked the edge of the ruins of what, in days long by, would have been a prosperous town situated in the mountains, perhaps at what once was a major trade route.

"I can't believe that you have a dungeon crawl this close to your house," Keolah said. "You could have been making day trips out here for years."

"Yeah, but it's creepy." Hawthorne shuffled her feet uneasily.

Keolah smirked. "Yeah, come on." Undaunted, she made her way toward the cracked stone wall, expecting some sort of undead, fear aura, or whatever else, but didn't encounter anything of the sort.

Behind her, Hawthorne had stopped, only having come twenty feet from the mountain path. "Place is still creepy," she muttered.

"Right," Keolah said. She reached into her component pouch and pulled out a ridiculous tiny cloak. " _Resistance._ " She threw the item at Hawthorne, where it shimmered into a faint, protective aura. "There, that help?"

"What was that supposed to do?" Hawthorne wondered.

"That should improve your saving throws. Come on, try your Will save again."

"Place is still creepy," Hawthorne insisted.

"I guess your save is too low that a +1 won't help enough," Keolah said, then paused and narrowed her eyes at her. "Unless it's not a magical effect at all and _you_ just think the place is creepy."

"Maybe," Hawthorne said, unconvinced.

"Look, relax," Keolah bluffed. "I'll protect you with my magic. It'll be fine. We can always go back to your house to rest if we run into trouble."

"Well. Okay." Reluctantly, Hawthorne headed forward and followed Keolah to the wall. Rats scurried about amidst the rocks around the ruins.

Keolah breathed a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how glad I am to see rats. Why couldn't my adventure have started with rats? I could have cleared out the rats in the basement of Ordenburg's inn or something. That would have been nice."

Hawthorne readied her greatsword, charged in, and splatted one of the tiny rats with her greatsword. Keolah drew her longsword to try to catch any of the rats that came too close.

"If you're a wizard, why are you using a sword?" Hawthorne asked.

"As much as I'd like to just throw Burning Hands at this lot, I want to save my magic for whatever is inside. Besides, they're just rats. Ordinary rats. Not even dire rats, fiendish rats, fiendish dire rats, giant rats, cranium rats, or whatever else. They have one hit point. They aren't even trying to attack us."

"Oh," Hawthorne said sheepishly as the rats scurried away, vanishing into the cracks.

A broken archway marked the entrance to the ruined city, and hiding behind the walls, they encountered five much larger rats who _didn't_ run away.

"Now, those," Keolah said, pointing them out, " _those_ are dire rats."

"What do we do?" Hawthorne asked.

" _Roll for initiative._ "

One of the rats snapped at Hawthorne with its jaws and chomped into her. "Ow!" Hawthorne cried. "I think the rat won the initiative there…"

* * *

With Hawthorne badly wounded and Keolah low on magic, once the rats were dead they decided that discretion was the better part of valor and went back to Wishingsdale for the night. Before going, she cast Detect Undead, but didn't detect any undead in the ruins. They might be hiding further down, though. She wasn't about to rule that out. The upper level of the ruins seemed primarily full of rats, however.

"Ugh, how did I get so torn up by _rats_?" Hawthorne wondered. "Filthy things. I hope I don't get sick from them."

"Well, on the bright side, Fortitude is your best saving throw," Keolah said.

The next morning, Hawthorne said with a groan, "I failed my Fortitude save."

Keolah put her face in her palm. "So, we can just rest it off and—"

"Not a chance," Hawthorne said. "No filthy rats are going to get the better of me. I'll show them!" She went and grabbed her greatsword, with a fair bit less elvish grace than usual, and stumbled to the door.

Keolah sighed as she quickly finished her breakfast and went after her. At least Hawthorne wasn't going to get the same disease twice. At least she'd waited for her to finish preparing her spells. At least it beat wavering on the path because the ruins were creepy.

"I want to get in on the magic thing too," Hawthorne said after they killed a small group of rats. "Maybe I should take a level of sorcerer."

"You have an arcane bloodline?" Keolah asked.

"Well, of course!" Hawthorne replied, looking mildly offended. "One of my ancestors was a red dragon, many generations ago. Her name was Thalajersal Blazewood, and she took on elven form to seduce the King of Kedresida, and—"

"Still don't care about your backstory," Keolah cut her off.

"You're my cousin, remember?"

"I've been trying to forget." Keolah sighed. "Also, sorcerers cast spells using charisma."

"Yeah, so? I have lots of charisma!"

"Does your low wisdom score prevent you from accurately assessing your own character attributes?" Keolah wondered.

"Wizards and sorcerers get familiars, though," Hawthorne said, ignoring the comment. "Those always struck me as so useless and more of an annoying burden than actually useful. Say, don't you have a familiar?"

"I have an owl," Keolah said dryly. "It's very useful. I use it to deliver mail."

"Wait, really?"

"No."

Hawthorne smirked. "So what sort of familiar _do_ you have?"

"I have a snake," Keolah said. "It improves my Bluff skill, which helps me make terrible jokes."

"Then where is your snake?"

"In my pants."

"Really?" Hawthorne said, eyes widening. "I want to see the snake in your pants!"

"Do I really have to hear this?" said the wererat in front of them.

"I'm not actually wearing pants, you know," Keolah said.

"You're awful."

Keolah smirked. "I never claimed to be Good-aligned."

"Maybe I could swap the familiar for a better class feature," Hawthorne mused. "Like, I don't know, maybe I could bond with my sword instead!" She examined her greatsword thoughtfully.

"You'll probably replace the thing in a level or two anyway."

"Point," Hawthorne said. "Hmm, maybe I could replace it with a different class feature, like a barbarian's rage! It could be called Draconic Rage!"

An ethereal voice echoed down from above, "Hawthorne, if I let you do that, you do realize I'd have to let every other sorcerer in the world do that too, don't you?"

Hawthorne frowned and thought about it very, very hard.

"No, Hawthorne," Keolah said patiently.

"Most sorcerers wouldn't exactly need barbarian rage," the wererat commented.

"Damn." Hawthorne pouted. "I really do want some magic, though!"

"A lot of classes have access to spells." Most of which depend upon attributes to which Hawthorne was clearly lacking, Keolah added mentally.

"Well, yeah. But I don't like most of them. Clerics are lame, bards suck, rangers and druids are tree-hugging hippies—"

"—says the wood elf—" Keolah interjected quietly.

"And I'm way too Chaotic Neutral to be a paladin."

"I've heard there some obscure variants of paladins of other alignments," Keolah said.

"That's just weird," Hawthorne said. "Also! There's no way in the Abyss that I'm touching psionics with a ten-foot pole."

"Perhaps I should have had you buy an eleven-foot-pole instead." Keolah said. "And maybe there's a prestige class that would offer what you're looking for."

"Ugh, like I have time to trawl through all of _those_ ," Hawthorne said, making a face. "You find one for me."

Keolah raised an eyebrow. "You want me to build your character for you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure you can do a better job of it than me, anyway. You're the one who's always _thinking_ about everything. I'm sure you can find something I'd like."

Keolah sighed. "Fine, maybe I can come up with something that would actually be _useful_."

"Maybe you two can get around to fighting us sometime?" the wererat said.

"Talking is a free action!" Keolah protested.

"Who do you mean by 'us', anyway?" Hawthorne wondered, looking over the assortment of one wererat, currently in hybrid form, and two dire rats.

"These are my closest friends!" the wererat insisted. "Their names are Skreekx and Bob. And _I'm_ Vex."

"Oh, gods, he's got a _name,_ " Hawthorne groaned. "They've all got names!"

"Well, I have two close friends, too," Keolah said. "I call them _Burning Hands_." Keolah raised her hands to scorch the three rodents.

"If all you're ever going to cast is Burning Hands, why didn't you become a sorcerer instead of a wizard?" Hawthorne asked.

"It's not _all_ I cast," Keolah argued. "Besides, wizards are much more versatile. Naturally, I want to eventually learn _every_ spell."

The wererat winced and snarled, batting at his burning fur as his rodent compatriots squeaked in pain. "That's great. I've got hopes and dreams too, you know. Like just think of how much experience I'll get from defeating a couple of low-level adventurers." He lunged forward with his rapier toward Hawthorne. She tried to dodge, stumbled, and the blade pierced her chainmail.

"Ow!" Hawthorne cried. "Argh. Don't tell me I'm going to turn into a wererat now?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Vex said. "I stabbed you, not bit you."

"Alright, you've had it now," Hawthorne snarled almost as if she were the animal here. She swung her greatsword, and while it did score a hit, although barely, the wound immediately healed up as though she hadn't even hurt him. "What!? How?"

The wererat laughed. "I'm a lycanthrope, remember? You'd need a silver weapon, or magic like your friend here."

"That's totally not fair," Hawthorne complained, ignoring the other two rats nipping ineffectually at them.

"Yeah, magic is pretty nice," Keolah said. " _Burning Hands_." Flames washed over the rodents, singing the wererat further, but leaving his smaller compatriots charred and motionless on the mountainside.

"No!" the wererat cried. "Not Skreekx and Bob! Oh well, the breed like rats."

He thrust his rapier at Hawthorne again, but she ducked out of the way and followed up with another swipe of her greatsword, this time not even managing to hit him and brutally slashing the ground.

"I really need magic…" Hawthorne groaned.

"And you," Vex addressed Keolah. "Let me guess, the next words out of your mouth are going to be Burning Hands?"

"Nope," Keolah said. " _Magic Missile_." She gestured, and sent a vibrant bolt of purple energy to strike the wererat.

"Ah, good one," the wererat said. Although wounded and charred, alone, he still stood confident. "Unless I miss my guess, though, you're out of spells. Am I right?" He grinned toothily at her.

"Nope, got another Magic Missile up my sleeve just waiting for next round to finish you off," Keolah bluffed.

"Hmm," Vex said, then shook his head. "Sorry, failed your Bluff roll."

"Damn," Keolah muttered.

The wererat stabbed at Hawthorne, but she more-or-less gracefully sidestepped the blow and swung a powerful attack at him, only to powerfully attack the ground again. Without any other useful spells on hand (seeing as the wererat wasn't undead), Keolah drew her sword and slashed at the air as the wererat dodged out of the way.

"What, really?" the wererat said incredulously. "Are you that desperate? The fighter can't hurt me, you think you have a better chance?"

"No, I'm just that desperate," Keolah bluffed.

Vex narrowed his eyes at her. "Still failing your Bluff roll."

Keolah rolled her eyes. "Why did I even bother putting points into that as a cross-class skill and take a snake as a familiar?"

"Sorry, ladies, but I think I'll be off, before the fighter lands a power attack or the wizard manages to hit me with her magic sword. Tata!" Vex turned and quickly scurried out of reach, and as he ran off, his body warped and shrunk as he quickly shifted into the form of a dire rat, before vanishing into the ruins.

"Damnit," Hawthorne said.

"Looks like we've got a recurring villain," Keolah commented.

"But did it really have to be a _rat_?" Hawthorne said. "That's just insulting."

"Come on, let's just get back to town," Keolah said with a smirk.

* * *

Before they reached Wishingsdale, Keolah spotted soldiers in black-and-pink uniforms moving about in the village, and held up a hand to signal Hawthorne to hold.

"I know you're not exactly very stealthy in that chainmail," Keolah said quietly, "but we've got trouble."

"Flylanders?" Hawthorne said, peering through the bushes. "That's not good."

"I suppose it's no surprise that they came here, though."

"We've gotta get to my house," Hawthorne said, shuffling forward.

"Hold on!" Keolah snapped. "I'm out of useful spells, and you're wounded and feverish. We're not exactly in the best fighting condition."

"I'm not just letting Flylanders have the run of my town," Hawthorne protested.

Keolah sighed. "Alright, if we do this, we're going to have to do this smart—"

Ignoring her, Hawthorne drew her sword and rushed down the slope.

"—or just charge blindly in like an idiot, that works too." Keolah put her face in her palm, drew her own sword, and followed after her.

They came up on the heels of a group of soldiers who they saw just entering the Chelseer house. Hawthorne charged in and, with great accuracy, impaled her sword into the far wall.

Keolah came in after and muttered, "Damnit, I didn't come this far just to get captured _now_." She looked around the room frantically. Surely there might be something here that she could turn to her advantage.

And then a green-eyed, black-haired elf with an enormous glowing greatsword stepped into the room and clove through all five soldiers with a single swing.

"Ah, sorry, girls, didn't mean to killsteal there," the man said. "Didn't realize you were in here."

"Hi, Dad," Hawthorne said with a strained voice. "Uh, Keolah, this is my father, Kiorden Chelseer. Dad, this is Keolah Kedaire, wizard, and the leader of my party."

"Wh—Wait, what level are you?" Keolah asked.

Kiorden didn't answer, turning to Hawthorne. "You've finally taken adventurer levels? What class did you go with?"

"Fighter," Hawthorne said.

"I'm proud of you, girl," Kiorden said. "Now, get out there and bring glory to the Chelseer name."

"Are you kicking me out of my own house?" Hawthorne said incredulously.

"Of course not," Kiorden said, chuckling. "Feel free to hang around as long as you like and level up at your own pace. What sort of parent do you take me for?"

"Great, thanks," Keolah said. "I don't suppose you know a cleric or something, do you? Hawthorne got bitten by a rat."

Hawthorne flushed. "I wasn't going to mention that."

"Ah, rats," Kiorden said, looking off wistfully. "That reminds me of when I first started adventuring. Yes, Hawthorne's mother is the village's main healer, but she's up in Thorn Valley at the moment visiting family."

"Where's Thorn Valley?" Hawthorne asked.

"Remember those ruins you always thought were creepy?"

Hawthorne groaned. "I didn't think I'd said that in earshot of you."

"Well, Thorn Valley is up past those ruins," Kiorden said. "You have to go through the ruins to get there." He paused thoughtfully. "Although they've been complaining about a wererat infestation up there…"

"We noticed," Keolah said.

"Sounds like a quest," Hawthorne said brightly.

"You know, I can always give you girls a jump start with some extra gold, magic items, whatnot…" Kiorden said with a grin.

"No way." Hawthorne grimaced, shaking her head vehemently. "I don't need any handouts. I can do everything myself."

Kiorden laughed softly. "I figured you were going to say that."

"Hawthorne, you didn't tell me that your father is a high level fighter," Keolah said.

"Epic level," Kiorden said. "Got a couple prestige classes in there, too. Nobody's going to bother my horses."

"I suddenly feel very safe hiding in here for the night," Keolah said.


End file.
